Sammy considered. "Why, I might as well take it to her—I'm goin' down there purty soon. Don't know any other ranch that might use a broncho-buster, do you?"
The proprietor shook his head. "No; most folks 'round here bust their own. Perfessional?"
Sammy nodded. "Yes. Here, gimme two-bits' worth of them pep'mint lozengers. Yes, it shore is fine; but it 'll rain before long. Well, by-by."
The bartender of the "Retreat" sniffed suspiciously and eyed the open door thoughtfully, holding aloft the bar-mop while he considered. Then he put the mop on the bar and went to the door, where he peered out. "Huh!" he grunted. "Hogin' that?" he sarcastically inquired. Sammy held out the bag and led the way to the bar. "Where's th' Bar-U? Yes? Do their own broncho-bustin'? Who, me? Ain't nothin' on laigs can throw me, includin' humans an' bartenders. What? Well, what you want to get all skinned up for, for nothin'? Five dollars? If you must lose it I might as well have it. One fall? All right; come out here an' get it."
The bartender chuckled and vaulted the counter as advance notice of his agility and physical condition, and immediately there ensued a soft shuffling. Suddenly the building shook and dusted itself and Sammy arose and stepped back, smiling at his victim. "Thanks," he remarked. "Good money was spent on part of my education—boxin' bein' th' other half. Now, for five more, where can't I hit you?"
"Behind th' bar," grinned the other; "I got deadly weapons there. Look here!" he exclaimed hurriedly as a great idea struck him. "Everybody 'round here will back their wrastlin' reckless; le 's team up an' make some easy money. I 'll make th' bets an' you win 'em. Split even. What say?"
"Later on, mebby. What'd you say that Bar-U foreman's name was?"
The bartender's reply was supplemented by a pious suggestion. "An' if you wrastles him, bust his cussed neck!"
"Why this friendship?" queried Sammy, laughing.
"Oh, just for general principles."